False Horizons

by CJ Birch

  Besides, Veera has a solid plan. I can’t say I exactly agree with it because it puts my crew at risk, but at least we’re not charging in with weapons loaded, asking questions later. I’ve washed my hands of it all. After my outburst with Sarka, I left Troer and Sarka to work out the details. My goal, and it grows stronger every second I’m on board, is to get the fuck off this ship. My only problem is how to do it.

  This whole thing is going to play out one of three ways. The most optimistic is if Veera and Sarka’s plan works and they cripple the illya’s ship and the attack from our end is successful. The most probable is that my crew isn’t able to sabotage the ship and the Avokaado attacks anyway and we suffer huge loses. And the third—which I really hope doesn’t happen—is that everything goes tits up and we all get blown into space.

  As I climb down the ladder to join the queues at breakfast, I’ve never been so sure of anything. I need to get off this ship. I can’t wait for other people to decide what happens to me. I’ll find a pilot to fly myself off this ship, find Ash, find my crew, and get us away from all this. We may have lost the Persephone, but we still have the Posterus. I’m not looking forward to losing face with Harrios. I’ll never live down the fact that I lost the Persephone. He’s not my boss, in fact we have the same rank, but he is our representative from Union fleet, and he’ll judge. He’s the type.

  I pull a tray off the counter and begin slopping stuff onto a plate. I’m not paying attention to what I’m grabbing. I’m looking for Karm, one of the hea mang players. I know he can fly their scout ships. We’ll still have to find a way to bypass the sensors, but I’m sure there’s a way. They say no one escapes this ship, but I’m pissed off enough to prove them wrong. I spot Karm in the back. He’s not with any of his friends, and for the first time he doesn’t have that big grin on his face.

  I sit down across from him. “Hey.”

  He brightens when he sees me. “Hi, Jordan. I see you came through the revolt on the right side.”

  I try to smile. Is there a right side to a revolt? It’s all how you choose to look at it, I guess. Every side thinks they’re right, and whether they are or not it doesn’t matter. In the end the victor chooses how it’s remembered. I’m not sure who said it, but history is written by the winners. The aju won this revolt, and now they’ll choose how it’s remembered until the next rebellion happens a decade from now. This is not my war. That’s how I choose to look at it.

  I look down at my plate, not recognizing a thing I’ve chosen, and I’ve had enough bad experiences with the food here to just plow in. I pick through a few of the choices and settle on something that looks like bread. When I bite into it, the satisfying sponge feel on my tongue confirms I’ve chosen wisely.

  I look around to make sure no one’s listening in on our conversation. It’s not much of an issue on this ship. By the time people make it to the mess they’re too hungry to care. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Karm leans forward with an eager expression and catches his sleeve in something bright orange and slimy. “Will it bring me glory?”

  “It might. No one’s ever done it before. At least that’s what they say.”

  He leans away and scans the nearby tables. When he speaks his voice is no longer friendly. “You’re not still planning that, are you?”

  “Of course I am. More than ever now. My crew is on the illya’s ship. I have to rescue them, and I’ll need a good pilot to help me.”

  He shakes his head and wipes the orange mess off his sleeve. “You’ll have to find someone else for that kind of glory. I can’t risk it.”

  I can’t understand this sudden change. “A few days ago you were all in.” In fact, after a few drinks from the bar, they were ready to take on the entire crew of the Avokaado.

  “A few days ago I was low ranking and had nothing to lose. Now, I’m in charge of my squad, I’ve moved four bunks lower, and I have everything to lose.” Of course he’s right. I hadn’t even thought about the other side to winning a revolt. New leaders arise, high on their need to prove they can do better than the last regime. Previous leaders are either killed or jailed or made an example of. I’m curious where our previous leaders are now.

  “Congratulations,” I say.

  He huffs. “I’m not saying this to brag. I’m one of the lucky ones.” He points to the empty spots on either side of him. “Bo and Meek didn’t make it, which I guess works in my favor because Meek outranked me. My point is, things are different now. But that doesn’t mean I’m not with you in here.” He points to his head. I guess it’s the same as saying you’re with someone in spirit, which helps me not one fucking bit. “And I’ll even point you in the right direction to prove it. If you’re serious about leaving, really serious, the people you should be seeking are locked up on deck three. In the prisons.”

  Even if I didn’t have a very good reason for getting the fuck off this ship, I’d be hard pressed to find a soldier that ranked lower than me. My bunk is several meters up. In fact, I’m at the top, which ranks me pretty fucking low. “I’m dead serious about leaving. But how do I get into the prison? They’re not going to let just anyone in.”

  “True, but now’s the best time to do it. Everything’s chaos. No one’s really sure who’s in charge and who isn’t. Go in with a lot of bravado, and I mean a lot, and tell the guards you’re there looking for information about something. Tell them Veera sent you. But you gotta believe it, or else they’ll throw you in there with the prisoners. Trust me, you don’t want to end up in the prisons.”

  Later that day as I’m heading down to the prisons, I realize I didn’t ask him how to get the prisoner out once I find someone dumb enough to pilot me off this ship. I’m still not allowed weapons. That’s how low my rank is. And getting a weapon is out of the question. Each soldier gets their own weapons, which are programmed to be operated only by their owner. If I try to pick up someone else’s, it’ll zap me with a charge strong enough to kill. It’s an effective deterrent. The only other place where you can find a weapon on this ship is in the armory, and that’s guarded.

  I wish Ash were here. She’d know what to do in this situation. In fact, I’m sure she’d have a weapon already. Of course there are other weapons to be had, and I don’t mean makeshift ones. I know from Tup that the two knives all breen carry don’t have a fail-safe to stop someone from picking up one that isn’t theirs. I have no skills when it comes to picking pockets, but that doesn’t mean I can’t figure out a way to get one out of someone’s bunk. They lock us in at night, but locks can be picked.

  It takes me a few days to get everything in place, but I luck out in such an extreme way I don’t mind the delay. The second day, as I’m coming down the ladder, one of the bunks I pass has its door open. Karm is sitting on his bunk. He puts a hand on my arm to stop me.

  “If you’re serious about your plan, you’re going to need this.” He looks around to make sure no one’s paying us any mind. When he’s confident we’re unobserved, he gives me a mean-looking knife.

  Without thinking, I stuff it into one of my cargo pockets. I nod a thanks and keep going. I don’t even stop once I hit the floor. If you want to get away with something, the cockier you are, the better. I’m not sure where this pearl of wisdom came from. It’s not like I’ve lived a life of crime or even mischief. The most you can say I’m guilty of is ambition. But I’ve never stepped over someone to get where I am today. I may have used information to my advantage. My position and success can be attributed to never giving up, even when I should have. Call it tenacity, enterprise, stubbornness—whatever it is, it’s gotten me my own command at thirty-four. Not many captains can say that. Now I just have to take that drive and put it to a new use: getting the fuck off this ship.

  The next part of the plan isn’t going to be so easy. I’ve been observing the security guarding the prisoners. I haven’t encountered their species yet. They’re covered in a thick black hair that makes them look like they’re walking around in stuffed
uniforms. I can’t see their eyes or much of their face because they too are covered by this black fur. And what they lack in height, they more than make up for in girth. They remind me of a picture of a gorilla I had in a book as a kid. “Harry the gorilla is enjoying his jungle lunch. When he’s finished his banana he’ll have another bunch.” I know gorillas were actually dangerous. Not violent on their own, but if threatened they could kill a human in a heartbeat. Somehow the gorilla seemed happier and more approachable in my book, and nothing like these guys.

  I’m running out of time. I need to make a decision and go for it. But I still haven’t figured out how to get past the sensors. Karm assured me they’re armed, now more than ever because there’s more unrest after a revolt. That makes sense. Who knows how the new leaders will run things. For a ship that houses dozens of different species, they do well to work together, but prejudices still exist. The breen and the aju have never gotten along. Most of the soldiers in the prison right now are breen. That’s a big hit on their armies, because I’ve heard most of the best fighters were breen. Of course, it was a breen who told me this, so I’m not sure if I can take their word for it.

  The longer I’m on this ship, the more I’m learning about the intricate natures of the species. Some of them even evolved on the same planet together. I read once that if there had been an intelligent species—besides humans, and even that’s debatable—to evolve on Earth they wouldn’t resemble humans. I try to imagine what future travelers will make of Earth when they land. By now the cities will have begun to disintegrate. Without human involvement nature will begin to reclaim its territory. As more and more asteroids rich in minerals and water pummel Earth, the oceans will refill. The current desert-like conditions will recede, and more diverse and rich vegetation will take over. In a thousand years, what will be left to say we were there? In ten thousand?

  For those species that evolved on the same planet, the same conditions have produced vastly different results. Take the guy who bunks below me, Calp. He’s blue with large orange dots over most of his body. He says it’s to help regulate heat from the sun. His species are from the same planet as the hairy gorillas guarding the prison. Apparently the hair pulls heat from the skin and also allows them to camouflage easily, because their hair resembles the grass on several continents.

  Whereas humans may look very different from one another, we haven’t melted into the pot quite yet, although, in the years we’ve been on the Belt, things have definitely homogenized. And I suspect it’ll happen even more on the Posterus. There are only so many breeding options. And as those kids partner with each other and breed, humans will forget different skin colors once existed. If we had evolved to look similar, would we be here now: cast out from our planet because our violent nature couldn’t bring us together long enough to save ourselves? Or would we have found something else to fight about?

  When I wake up the next morning, I realize I’ve run out of time.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Ash

  I’ve watched my father’s communique a dozen times now. It doesn’t get any better the more I watch it. And every time I do, the tighter my insides get until I’m wound together like a coolant coil. I’ve been pacing my cabin for over an hour now. The sweat on my uniform has long since dried and is stiff and uncomfortable, but I can’t seem to do anything except pace. And while I pace, one thought keeps going through my mind.

  There was no planet.

  They never intended the Posterus to reach Kepler F980 because it never existed. The whole thing was some sort of payment.

  I keep pacing because I can’t not pace. This is huge. It took twenty years to build the Posterus. This mission has cost the Belt most of its resources, and everyone agreed it was worth all the effort because in the end it meant colonizing a new planet and saving the human species. But it was never about that. It was all a scam. The Commons knew the entire time that the 45,000 people on board would never reach any planet.

  This explains why my father was so angry when he found out I’d been accepted on the mission. He knew then. He knew I had just signed up for a death mission. It’s not like any of us thought we would reach the planet, but we knew our descendants would. It’s an entirely different thing to know you get to live a full life, even if it is on a spaceship, than to know you’re not going to live to see the next month.

  My pacing has become erratic. It’s not using up enough of my anger. I’m so furious I want to destroy things. My father had the gall to call my life choices into question when he betrayed his entire species.

  Everyone back on the Belt is under the false impression that their loved ones on this mission will live long, happy lives and that their descendants will help colonize a new world and further our species in another system. These are lies the Commons told them. They betrayed everyone on the Belt, every single person who worked on the Posterus, who gave their lives for this project. For what? So we could all die? What sort of payment is 45,000 lives?

  How many people beyond the Commons knew? My father didn’t go into detail about how complicit the government was, but this would’ve come from the very top. From the leaders of the Union. They certainly wouldn’t approve of a project with this magnitude without knowing the real mission. Or would they? Without knowing why they sent us, it’s hard to speculate.

  Did Sarka know? He was trying to blow up the Posterus’s engine. But not just the engine. He wanted the Posterus to explode as well. Why else make sure it made it on board? Was it to teach the Commons a lesson? Or is he really as insane as he sounds when he said leaving would destroy our species?

  I can still picture the look in my father’s eyes when I told him I was going. He stood there and lied to my face. If he was so angry with me, why did he choose to send me this communique when we still had time to turn around? Did he find his conscience?

  I look at the tablet in my hand. Jordan gave it to me weeks ago, but I was too stubborn to watch it. I was sure I knew what it said. I could’ve prevented all this: all those deaths that have already occurred, not to mention the tens of thousands of deaths that will now likely happen.

  It’s all my fault.

  I throw the tablet against the wall. A dull thud is followed by a cushioned fall onto the carpet. I search my shelves frantically for something that will break, something to ease the rage inside. I find the photo of my aunt and me at my graduation and send it flying toward the window. It gives a satisfying crack as it smacks into the thick glass and lands on the ledge. I grab more things, more of my treasures, and fling them against the window until I’m panting so hard I’m almost hyperventilating.

  When I’m out of things to throw, I sink to the floor next to my bed. I lean my head back on the soft mattress and stare up at the ceiling.

  I have so many questions I need answers to and have no idea who to ask. If Jordan were here she’d know what to do. If anything, though, I need someone to talk to. The people on board I trust the most are Hartley and Yakovich. Three brains should be able to come up with a solution.

  As I exit my cabin, I run into the doctor. “Ash, why are you in such a hurry?” He puts a hand on my arm. I must look crazed. That’s how I feel.

  “I have some urgent matters to take care of.”

  “You’d be served well by changing into a clean uniform and showering first.” Never one to sugarcoat things, he says, “You stink.”

  “Thanks. Did you come here just to let me know that, or can I help you with something else?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “You already asked me that.” The doc wanted to pull me to the med center for further tests. I’m feeling decent, considering my world just imploded.

  He steps into my quarters and pulls me with him. “It’s best if we talk in private.”

  He leans against my desk and crosses his ankles, and I’m at ease immediately. If something was wrong, he wouldn’t look so relaxed. “I wanted to check in on you and see how you’re handling the medicatio
n.”

  “You mean you’re checking to see if I’m still taking it.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “We’ve already seen an improvement, so there’s no doubt you’ve been taking it.”

  He’s right. Before the medication, something as devastating as losing Jordan would’ve put me into a downward spiral. I would’ve moped for days, stayed in bed as long as I could without anyone noticing. But that hasn’t happened. I feel lost without her, and I miss her like crazy, but it’s not a demoralizing defeat. And I haven’t had as many urges to work through the night on projects. “I’ve been getting regular sleep, which isn’t normal, so something must be better.”

  “Good. Good. We’re in the early stages of treating you. And I know it must be difficult with everything being as unstable as it is. Eventually we’ll look at diet, and I want you to keep up with your exercise regime. Have you noticed any side effects? Nausea, dizziness, headaches?”

  “I’ve been getting really bad headaches. Usually late at night right before bed.”

  “Okay. We’ll look into that. It’ll be easier once the Persephone is functioning like her old self again.” He pats me on the arm again. “Ash, for the sake of everyone you pass in the hall, have a shower.”

  “I told Hartley to work on getting the essential systems up first.”

  “Showers are essential, trust me. I heard him tell Foer to get the communal showers working. So you’ll have to go down to the track in order to clean up. But everyone will thank you for it.”

  I grab a clean uniform from my drawers, snag a towel, and head to the track. I haven’t been able to enter the locker room since I was last here with Jordan. As I walk past the threshold and hang my towel on a hook, I swear I catch a faint hint of her perfume. Even though I know it’s all in my imagination, the sweet scent of apricots floats by. I turn on the shower and let the hot water sluice down my back. I have a longing so fierce I feel it as an actual pain in my stomach. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that moment in the showers. I’d have a chance to make it all different. I could’ve turned us around and stopped all this. We wouldn’t be lost in this galaxy. Those sixteen crew members would still be alive.